The Girl and the Gunman

Nafisa Ali

I used to live in the northern part of the most deeply-rooted city in the world--Damascus, the capital city of Syria. When I lived there my alarm would go off every day at seven o'clock in the morning. I only had fifteen minutes to catch one of the public buses to go to school, which was on the southeast side of the city. It was a twenty-minute ride, but I never noticed how it passed because I would be too engaged reading and reviewing my notebook. When the bus got to my station, I had to be quick and get out before the driver took off; sometimes they don't notice you.

One Monday, as usual, I stepped off the bus and took a couple of steps to see the oncoming traffic to cross the street to the other side. It was a very wide four-lane road. For some reason, the government did not see there was an urgent need to have a pedestrian crosswalk. The street was too dangerous and so unsafe.

As I was waiting for the traffic to lessen down, I noted a far-flung wheat farm in the opposite spot of the street that I was standing on. I don't think there was anyone who tilled that farm; it fed itself without human involvement. The sun's reflection on the wheat leaves gave it an extra golden shine, which attracted the birds in the sky to find out what their lunch was for that day.

On the left side of the farm, there was a huge building that was built with fear and mystery; it was the Syrian Military Unit building. It was where people learned how to let the beast in them take over their human part. They took no consideration of other people's lives; they worshiped and worked for the Angel of Death, so he could give them a longer life to kill more. They had a trade agreement with Him that, the more they cut from people's lives, the more He added to theirs. Therefore, they had to be aggressive, vicious and thirsty for war, blood, and pain. They often inhaled and exhaled through the bullet.

On the other end of the farm, there was a new educational institute, a building with a contrasting purpose. There, people got closer to nature. They learned how to let their brains fly to places no one has seen yet. They invented ideas and developed them, solved problems and let their imagination dive deep into books and facts. There, they understood how their bodies' parts function and the connections they had with each other. They learned when, why, and how things happen. They learned about their past and how to get useful lessons from it, to build a better future for mankind. I was going there to study Psychology. I have always loved how humans think, and I often wonder how our reactions affect our actions. For that reason, I had chosen to study the mind.

At the main entrance of The Syrian Military Unit, there was a tall handsome man wearing his dark green, army uniform. He stood with pride, as he had been told that he was a respectable knight. He was protecting his country by only guarding that giant gate for the big dogs inside. He was carrying a huge M16A4 assault rifle on his right shoulder, while he was walking back and forth.

After I negotiated with the traffic for a while, I finally crossed the first road. As I was getting closer to cross the second part of the street, my eyes alternated between the cars and the soldier, who was gazing at my movement with a vast curiosity. I felt that he was shocked with my high energy and the way I was waving to the cars, stopping them with one hand, and holding my books tight in the other hand. All I was trying to do was cross the street safely and quickly. My confidence intimidated him, as if I was supposed to minimize my ability to cross the street so I would not alarm him. The thought that I was taking control of something was a nightmare for him; he wanted to be the master of my energy. From his perspective, I was not allowed to take control over anything in public.

I got closer to the end of the street, hoping I could reach my destination with no problems. "Oh no," there was a traffic barrel; that obstacle narrowed the right side of the way to my school, so my best decision was to go from the left side and pass around that obstacle. This meant I was going to pass by the anticipating soldier.

As I walked forward, he moved quietly towards me, stepped in my way, and pointed his weapon right on my face. There were only about three feet in between us. I took a long breath and imagined this moment as a test to myself. I maintained my calm, raised my chin, and looked at him right in the eye. I spoke through my body instead of my mouth, and my body said, "I am not afraid." Then I looked at the big sun up in the sky, and felt it saying to me, "You just started your day, so keep on shining." I looked slightly down, and I saw a small brown bird whistling to me, "Spread your wings; you are free." These two voices boosted my spirit and filled me with power.
As I looked in his eyes deeper, I saw a shellacking color of fear of my knowledge, fear of the light that I could bring to the world. He wanted the world to continue being dark and cloudy so that his power could shine by keeping other lights off. He wanted us all to be enslaved to the Syrian Government. He preferred it when injustice was protected. He liked for the poor to get poorer and never have an opportunity to speak up. He did not want their voices heard against the favoritism of rich individuals. He preferred to neglect the majority of the nation. In his world, the rich were getting richer and never participated in helping their next door neighbors who were in need. He liked it when women were weak, speechless, powerless, ignorant and timid. He saw, through me, one of his worst nightmares as I was the exact opposite of what he enjoyed. He thought through his weapon, I would not reach for my dreams. The only knowledge he carried in his head was how to reload the gun and how to shoot, how to establish fear and how to spread it all around. He thought if he killed me, I would simply remain another minor, petty soul on his victims list.

But no.

I refused to be one of his victims. More than that, I chose to love life interminably, with all of my power. He saw how much I wasn't ready to let go of what was mine. He saw an army of dreams and ambitions with their powerful weapons of love and kindness. He saw a fire of knowledge that I carried in my soul to enlighten his darkness.

I was studying his mind. The man was already getting terrified. He was gradually losing control and becoming powerless. I clearly saw it in his gesture. His stance and his hold loosened.

I tried to show him that he too could be free. As his eyes shifted, I told him with my eyes, "Do not give up on yourself; you still have a chance. You don't have to listen to the men who killed their souls. They want to enslave you, they regiment your life; you do not have to be told what to do, what to think, what to feel. You do not have to be another machine; you do not have to be a tool for dictators. You can be my brother in humanity; I would love for you to be a happy human. You have the power to make a positive change in your life and others. You and I can unite. You do not have to hate me or destroy me."

Though his body slightly softened, he was still too terrified to even move his fingers away from the gun.

I gently walked along the gun and gave him a big loving smile. I stepped forward with ease, feeling sorry for him. I entered my social psychology class feeling like I displayed excessive self-satisfaction for unassumingly passing the hardest life test I have ever had. I then knew I was on the track of becoming the strong woman my mom taught me to be as a little girl.